Chapter 38 - I am a wizard now, aren’t I?

My new soulbound servants kept smiling all the way back but by the time Areskit came into sight they were plastered on and not genuine. I was exhausted and I was stronger than them so god knew how they were aching behind the fake grins. The unenhanced members of our party staggered to a stop as soon as we crossed the lip of a hill and saw the wagons and tents laid out before us. They collapsed onto their arses and gasped for breath, Mune and Jandak tried to tease them but they were struggling to breathe as well.

Two days had passed. Last night Mune had announced he’d lost his connection to the blind corpse of Getha we’d sent staggering south behind us. As we stopped to catch our breath and rest, three plumes of dust rode out from the mobile town. I narrowed my eyes and grinned fiercely. Kril and Trikilo had been busy.

Chariots drawn by pairs of ponies raced across the grass towards us, resolving out of the dust they threw up. They were simple contraptions, a crude open backed basket covered in leather attached to a wheel base and harness for the ponies. They would do the job though. If Mortimer held off coming north for a couple of months I’d have squadrons of these things carrying archers equipped with firewall-arrows ready to drive him back.

The lead vehicle cut sideways as it slowed and the trailing ponies followed suit. Kril jumped down from the back of the first chariot and glared at us.

“How far behind you is the wagon? Why the fuck did you leave it unguarded?” he snapped.

“Wagons gone,” gasped Jandak who still hadn’t recovered his breath.

“We had a few problems in Gethanel,” I offered. “An enemy was there.” I caught his gaze and tried to silently communicate that it was Shikrakyn business. He narrowed his beady eyes at me. “I’ve learned a few things you’ll like though. I can… share the wealth?”

“What fucking wealth? Six good tusks gone? All our trade goods for the season wasted? Where’s the joy, Urkendyn? Where's the wealth?” I rose and pulled him away from the others, the men who’d accompanied me smirked among themselves once his back was turned but I caught their expressions from the corner of my eye.

“I can give you magic,” I whispered once we were a few metres away from the chariots. I felt a bit like Hagrid as I towered over the wizened prune of a man. He leapt into the air and spun to slap me in the face with an outstretched hand. He landed lightly and once more fixed me with an angry look.

“Quit fucking around.”

“I’m not joking, Kril. Look.” My right hand flashed forward too fast for him to react and clamped down on his forehead. He brought both hands up to grab me around my wrist.

I sent him a hundred souls, two hundred from my reserves, and the hands fell away. My total dropped to four hundred and thirty four. I didn’t want to spend any more as I suspected I’d need to spend some Souls in the bloody Shop to get some goods to win over the smith.

“What does it mean? Physical Strength? Magical Strength?” he asked as he blinked at the writing only he could see.

“You can read it?” He kicked me in the shin and confirmed he could indeed read it. So it appeared in whatever written language the recipient could understand. I briefly regretted the fact that everyone in the tribe bar Kril was completely illiterate.

“Each level to nine will cost ten souls and will give you two stat points- what did you just do?” I asked. The pale letters over his head had shifted. His mind stat had jumped to E.

“I put everything into magical power and mana. What does focus do?” he asked. “Never mind: what the hell does rapid growth do?” he snapped, fixing me with his signature glare.

“Listen you crazy old wizard, you can’t take those choices back! Ask before you act next time!” I hissed.

“I am a wizard now, aren’t I? Focus and rapid growth: explain please?” He sounded pleased with himself.

“At least you picked life as your first affinity. I don’t know what focus does. I think it’s like mental reflexes, maybe stamina as well? It’s not one I’ve figured out. Magical strength increases the effectiveness of your spells, duration for attacks and impact for buffs, every time it goes up by ten. I’ve never found much use for Rapid Growth other than making berries sprout from a half dead bush,” I shrugged at the end and got cuffed around the head. I really needed to establish some boundaries with Kril.

He knelt down and put his hand to the ground. A moment later the grass began to grow. Five seconds later the stubby stalks waved over a metre tall and fat grains lined their crowns. He rose and kicked my shin again. I assumed it was easier for the little bastard to reach.

“Forget the bloody tusks, boy! We’re going to be rich beyond ivory! I’ve got seeds of every herb and spice and dye sat waiting in my tent. I’ve never been able to get most of them to grow so far north before… Why the fuck haven’t you been using this?” he demanded.

“It didn’t seem that useful. What about your second affinity?” I asked and jumped backwards to avoid another blow to my shin.

“I have chosen the path of wisdom. What do you know about the rest? It’s all hidden from me,” he replied with a lopsided smile.

“Death gives you rot and corrode, then you can reanimate the dead as slaves at higher levels. We’ve got some rings my competitor kindly donated to us that are enchanted with the spell.” His eyes gleamed at this and not in a way I found reassuring.

“The dead should rest,” he snapped. “What else?”

“Fire, Ice and Lightning are all basically the same but different flavours, you know what fire can do. Space you know. Time lets you speed up or slow down yourself or an enemy. If you took it I’d probably have to give you enough Souls to get to the point you could enchant stones with haste and slow.” I regretted it the instant the words left my mouth. “You just chose Time didn’t you?”

“Two percent? Two fucking percent?” he snarled as he began pacing back and forth. “Range and area come next tier… Aresk’s hairy legs! Imagine making a group of warriors faster just as they smash into the enemy? How high do I need to be to Enchant?”

“Level twenty. If it works for you. You’re a Soulbound Servant, not a Shikrakyn.”

“How do I get Souls?” his beady eyes were locked on my face.

“You can’t. I- I need to give them to you,” I replied. I’d almost said I or one of my competitors needed to give them to him. I wasn’t sure if he would be able to accept Souls from one of my fellow transmigrated earthlings but I didn’t want to put the idea out there either way.

“Well give me another two hundred then!” he barked at me, hand outstretched, as the charioteers looked back and forth in confusion.

“It costs me twice whatever you get! That would be four hundred Souls. I’ve got it but I need some to buy some metal to win over Sulk,” I backed away, faintly worried he’d latch onto me until I transferred the Souls across. Instead he suddenly sat down cross legged and looked up at me.

“How? That’s a lot of Souls. You didn’t have enough rope to set that many snares!” he accused.

“As we ran away I set some fires to buy us time-” I began but he started cackling and rocking back and forth. I closed my mouth and looked at him quizzically.

“Burnt the fucking town down, right?” he chortled. These people were savage. “How many dead?”

“Seventy odd plus a dozen or so undead.” My voice was cold and he caught the faint hint of rage in my tone that I couldn’t mask.

“Hardly the whole town then. Not your fault boy,” he rose and patted me on the shoulder. “Those towns are tinder boxes ready to burn. They build out of stone in the far south and still fires are regular problems for the shit-sitters. Hmm, you’re right. How much for your fanciest metal bar from the Shop?” He once again fixed me with a penetrating glare.

I sighed and accessed the Shop. Tier three had given me iron and crude steel equipment. Tier four had given me proper steel as well as Damascus and wootz variants, a considerable improvement in effectiveness. Tier five had unlocked when I reached level forty and it contained…

“What the hell is Adjuntium? Or Origanish Kelt?” I muttered. They were both processed ingots so should be refined metal but I’d never heard of them.

“No idea. How much bronze can you buy?” Kril asked sharply.

“We might want to look at iron instead… Have you ever seen reddish rocks on the plains?” An idea had just occurred to me.

“Sure, they're all over to the northwest but that’s Koprigyn land. You don’t want to mess with those savage bastards. How much bronze?” he repeated like he was speaking to a simple child.

“Iron has some advantages over bronze. It’s not as good at first, not until you figure out how to make steel, but it has one massive advantage: you only have to have one mine to get everything you need and the ore is ten times more common than copper or tin. Where does the shit-sitters bronze come from?” I asked Kril. He opened his mouth to snap at me but then thought better of it.

“The shit-sitters,” he replied with a shrug. Considering he was the most cosmopolitan and well-travelled of the tribe I shuddered to think what any of the others would have said.

“Somewhere on this shit-heap of a world is a bunch of people, probably slaves, digging up copper ore. And a few thousand miles away is another bunch of saps digging up tin. You bring those two metals together and you get the bronze that you steal or buy from the settled peoples. But with iron you just need one hole in the ground and some charcoal. You guys can make charcoal right?” I asked.

“Yes, of course. Well, Sulk can at any rate. What’s good about iron?” Kril asked, catching some of my excitement.

“It’s easier to make and I can help you jump a bit of the way into steel. It’ll be shit steel but it should match up against bronze and we can mass produce the stuff!” I was getting giddy at the idea. The south had clearly started experimenting with iron, if Getha’s description of Mortimer’s escort was accurate, but I could jump ahead of that and I had all the northern steppe to play around in. Once I had dealt with the locals, of course. “Imagine all your warriors wearing coats of metal and wielding long metal blades!”

“We’d take over the plains… then the godsdamn world! Aresk’s Mighty Pecker, boy. All we need is… to get that miserable, crippled old bastard on our side. Shit.” His voice had fallen towards the end.

“Sulk will be easy enough,” I scoffed. “I’ll tease him with some of the finished products from the shop!”

“Won’t work. He’s crippled. He can travel but he won't. You want to drag all this metal-rock down to him so he can pull the iron out?” Kril snapped back.

“We could do. What would make him move with us?” I asked.

“Us?” asked Kril.

“The Hatrik and their allied families. We ditch Hakubin and his loyalists, go pay Sulk a visit to get him on board then head north into the Koprigyn lands. With chariots throwing out firewall stones I think they’ll figure out fairly quickly to leave us alone.”

Kril stroked his chin thoughtfully. He began pacing back and forth between me and the chariots. They were simple things and I could already see easy ways to improve them.

“How are the ponies taking to the harness?” I asked a driver, giving Kril time to scheme.

“They don’t like it, uh, lord. They’re getting used to it though. Have to pair them up right, see? If they don’t like the other horse they work against each other.”

“I’d love to go for a ride on one. Once the Dreamer is finished with his thoughts!” I really did want to go zooming across the grasslands on a chariot. The horses were too small for me to ride comfortably and the absence of a proper saddle and stirrups would make it almost impossible for me, unlike the much shorter warriors.

“I can make this work. You might need to throw some magic at the Hatrik patriarch. No… waste of Souls. If he won’t commit we’ll still take a chunk of his warriors and women with us. Fayala has become very popular with the womenfolk. That wand you gave her saved a newborn and the mother. Probably a lot of the Herm will join us. A few of the Jet? Nah, fuck them, Haku lapdogs. We can do this, I think!” Kril grinned up at me. “We’ll need to test the other chariots and train some more horses first though.”

“How many have you made?” I asked. I’d assumed the three I’d seen were all they’d produced in the week and a bit we’d been away.

“Another dozen and four more that are nearly finished. The limiting factor is the wood but after the first worked so well Hatrikhan has been sending out more gathering parties.”

“Just wait till I teach you about the stirrup!” I grinned. The little horsemen would love that. It would let them fight properly from horseback with lances or bows. I’d probably need to introduce a proper saddle and see how long it would take to breed a proper sized horse but then I might be able to ride as well. In the meantime I was stuck as a pedestrian.

My future was looking busy. The rage from my inadvertent massacre had settled somewhat but still burned in the background of my mind. I was a long way behind the only rival I had any information on. Stranded among stone age savages who didn’t even bake proper bread or brew beer. Despite my recent losses things were looking up. With a mounted horde at my back armed with iron tipped arrows I could even the score nicely.

“What the fuck is a stirrup?” Kril barked back.